You know, I’m usually a pretty well-organized person. My kitchen is neat (other than that corner-section of the countertop, which gets cluttered with bills to be paid and cellphones and keys and all the detritus of our comings and goings) and my craft room has a place for everything I use for all those hobbies of mine. There are neatly stacked tubs of baby clothing in the closet under the stairs, clearly labeled “0-3 months,” “3-6 months,” and so on. I keep a calendar for my dinner menus, with on-call nights or visiting guests marked in different colors, so I can plan appropriately for feeding the right number of people. FlyLady would call me one of those BO‘s.
During NaBloPoMo, my organizing gene came out in full force. I bought a little green notebook and filled it with posting ideas. I jotted out a list of the days that my in-laws would be in my home, and wrote a few posts early and set up my auto-posting feature to make sure they would appear in a timely fashion even if my mother-in-law was hovering nearby and preventing me from logging in to my SupaSecretBlog.
And then, and then… December hit. I enjoyed the first few days of this month – no pressure! Just post when you feel like it! But as the stress and the time committments and the sicknesses accumulated, my “feeling like it” declined. (As did my stats. Dear readers, what few (two?) of you are left, I sincerely apologize for sucking.)
Today, I am achy. Leaning into the crib to lay down my sleepy (still sick, unfortunately – more barf and diapers greeted me last night and again this morning) boy just hurts. I don’t know if it’s the beginnings of Smooch’s virus getting its sticky little fingers on my immune system, or just my body’s way of saying, “Hey! Lady! Take a break! You are too stressed and overdoing it!” Gruff advised me to take 600 mg of ibuprofen, a hot shower, and a nap.
“But I want to write!” I whined back at him. “I haven’t written in days and I just,” feeling my throat constrict and tears threaten to spill, “I really need to sit down and try.”
Never mind that all I can pour out is utter blather. Never mind that my beautiful NaBlo posting plans have fallen by the wayside. Never mind that he’s probably right, and a good hot shower and some sleep would do me a world of good. I feel the mojo trying to creep back into my good graces, and I want to welcome her back in.